Let Bygones be Bygones
by Little Soldier Boy
Summary: I could never let my nose out of a book. I'd always hide myself when she came by.


**A/n: It's something that I did quickly, but is important to me.**

**Disclaimer: Do I really need to say anything?  
**

I hate this.

I hate hiding away in a library, covered in books. Well, not really.

I just hate not being able to speak for myself.

But I guess my parents have done that for me.

I love the seclusion, though. Being able to hide from everyone. Enter a place where finding knowledge is the major priority. I love the library.

It is rather tedious after a while. I sit here alone. No companions—I'm too "dangerous" to be considered a companion. Never have I been accepted by my fellow Ravenclaws. No friends. Pfft. Honestly, who needs _friends? _I'm able to think for myself, thank you very much. They are a waste—people who slow you down.

And education is a big thing—especially if you are a Ravenclaw.

_Ravenclaw._

I'm an outcast. I don't belong here. I'm not supposed to be here. I broke the family tradition of entering my family's house.

I don't look like a Ravenclaw. I stand out from the rest. With my diverse features.

My parents have demanded that I be Sorted again. The Headmistress told us that if the hat decided that I was to be out into this House, I should stay. I can't be changed. That would not be fair. She explained that if I had their (notice that I did not say "my") wish of being in the house they (again, I refuse to say "I") desire for my placement, then all the children who desire their _real_ House of choice should be Sorted again.

She stated that that was never going to happen.

My parents new—more likely _thought_—that it was all of the hat's fault. None of the blame was ever navigated towards my direction. I was too perfect of a child to be convicted of such crime.

I opened the book I had picked out—_Harry Potter, Savior or Sinister_—by Rita Skeeter. How ludicrous. I wanted to laugh a taunting laugh to no one. I never had those jubilant laughs. The laughs I let out were either laughs full of bitterness, taunts, and of dark humor.

I never had a real laugh. Besides, I never had anyone to laugh with.

Alone.

Solicit.

But who needs company? Even if it does slow you down, though, it probably makes you feel better...

Rita Skeeter was a rather convincing writer. When she writes her books, she makes them seem so real and believable even when I doubt that half the book is correct.

And I guess that that is why I hold quite a high regard for her.

I assume she was in Slytherin when she went to Hogwarts. The "Forbidden House"— said by my dorm-mates, who would articulate it loudly enough so that I can hear it. Would they think I would snap? I can control myself. Yes, I have inherited my family's vicious temper, but that just means I have to work harder to conceal it than others do.

I read. I continued to read. I spend most of my free time up in this location. I have my own spot for me. It was in a secluded corner, where a window that normally let in an abundant amount of sun light so that it made reading simpler.

For some reason, I hated myself. Letting people think things about me that is not true. I never tried to redeem myself or my family. Why do something you know will never succeed?

But I did try to redeem myself, just not hard enough. In my first year, I tried to be like all those kids. In second year, when I was still unaccepted, I tried to slack in grades, like the other students. In third year, I, not backing down, tried to impress people by showing what I was capable of.

They just thought that I was so great because I was trained to excell in subjects that students—years above—would not know because I was supposed to intimidate the students into thinking that I was a Junior Death Eater.

So, by the beginning of my fourth year, I did not try anything. I did what I was supposed to do. I avoided everyone. I never talked. I got the highest grades. I antagonized those who provoked me and disliked anyone who I did not know. I don't think that anyone has noticed that my voice has deepened considerably. It was higher than the voices that the other boys in my year had, but it's changed. I've grown taller. My shoulders broadened. My hair is untidier. My face is skinnier. I have no muscles, but at least I'm not obese. I'm taller, too.

Isn't that what people like?

It doesn't matter. I'm not good enough anyway.

I've learned to accept that. I've learned to accept the fact that I'm never going to be treated normal.

No one notices me. No one has realized how much I've change.

No one but _her._

No one but that girl who everyone talks to. The girl who is so popular. The girl who is so intelligent, her grades are as good as mine. The girl who's so beautiful. The girl who was the Queen of Hoops during Quidditch. The girl who was my second friend.

The girl who was my _best_ friend.

But that's over now.

And it was all because of one word I said to her:

_"Mudblood."_

**A/n: I have very bad grammar. I didn't really check it over because I was pretty excited to start a fic after not writing for a rather long time. **

**I need a beta. One who like Ron/ Hermione or Hugo/ Scorpius or Rose/ Scorpius. I really do need a beta. Either shippings will do.  
**

**I hope this is okay. I always pictured Rose and Scorpius's friendship to be like Snape and Lily's, except it's not revolting.**

**The next chapters for this story is going to be about 4000-9000 words long. Maybe Shorter, maybe longer. idk.**

**I hope u enjoy:)  
**


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